Runaway Love
by deokjins
Summary: For Roxas, it's a struggle to make it from one day to the next. Axel, a bored rich kid spots the blonde one day and is immediately infatuated with the homeless boy. Having grown up getting anything and everything he's ever wanted, he's determined to have the blonde boy as his own, whilst learning what it means to live for another person.
1. Market Street

**RUNAWAY LOVE**

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**Pairing:** Axel/Roxas

**Summary: **For Roxas, every day is a struggle. Between dodging the police, muggers, and rapists, he's constantly putting his life on the line to make it from one day to the next. The only thing he has to drive him is his love of music. Axel, a spoiled rich kid spots Roxas one day and is immediately infatuated with the homeless boy. Having grown up getting anything and everything he's ever wanted, he's determined to have the blonde boy as his own, whilst learning what it means to live for another person.

**A/N:** for whatever reason (i don't even know what it is) but when i listen to a lot of the sonic adventure 2 songs, i think of kh. even sora and tails remind me of one another. i don't get it either. anyway, the lyrics used are escape from the city by ted poley and tony harnell. i think in this situation, it's perfect.

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**I: Market Street  
**

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The winters in Twilight Town were brutal around mid-January. Vicious windchills, unforgiving morning frost that left people locked out of their cars, and black ice were the norm. Roxas pulled his coat closer to his body, trying to suppress a violent shiver to no avail, frowning as the chill wracked his small frame. He pulled the fabric tighter—not that it would do him any good; the thing had too many holes.

He remembered everything as if it were yesterday, even though it had been nearly three years since he'd left home. Not that he was sure he could really call that place "home" to begin with. Traverse Town had hardly seemed like a home. He remembered his parents' and older brother's death and being taken in by his uncle (he wasn't sure if the bastard was from his mother's side or his father's side, but he had his doubts they were even actually related to begin with) Xemnas. The guy looked nothing like either of his parents.

He remembered nights when he would huddle himself under his blanket as he cried silent tears, careful not to agitate any of the new scratches or bruises that he'd been given. He remembered those nights vividly. He swears sometimes he can still feel those large hands clamping down on his arm, his shoulder, his ankle; anywhere that could be grabbed and prevent him from running.

The man had made a toy out of him, this much Roxas knew. Despite the praise he got for being smart or talented or anything else of the sort, he knew he had only one purpose: to pleasure his uncle, the sick bastard. The guy wanted him to submit; to do anything that was asked of him regardless of morals or anything else that might stop him from carrying out his wishes. If he asked Roxas to come closer, he expected the boy to move closer. If he asked Roxas to kneel, he expected him to kneel. He wasn't a fucking pet. He couldn't stay in that place any longer.

Roxas had different plans for himself. So he hit the road. He had snuck out in the middle of the night and didn't look back. He'd almost gotta caught twice, but luckily he was sneaky enough to get out of that place once and for all. He had had his sights set on Hollow Bastion—and still planned to get there; Twilight Town had just ended up being a pit-stop. A two-year pit-stop. A permanent-looking pit-stop. He didn't mind it though, as long as he wouldn't be found.

Roxas had made a living for himself. He was free to do what he liked, go where he liked. One little problem though; he didn't have any money. Not enough to get him to Hollow Bastion and be able to make much more of a living there. But he was saving up. As it turns out, despite being pretty small in comparison to other towns, Twilight Town's economy was plentiful.

He was on his way to find a good spot with lots of people. To someone who didn't live there, you would think that anywhere would be good. But Roxas had been on the streets long enough to know where he could get enough attention to make a few bucks. Not through prostitution, if that's what you're thinking. That was a last resort, if anything else. No, Roxas was a street performer—the kind you see in subway stations and in city squares. He thought himself amateur at best, but those who actually appreciated a little theme music seemed to think otherwise.

It was mid-afternoon, though you could barely tell with the thick clouds hanging overhead. It was as if the sun wasn't even in the sky. The weather had been the slightest bit more forgiving that day despite the gloomy atmosphere, though Roxas was having trouble keeping his hands warm. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able make any money with numb fingers. He tightened his hand around the handle of his guitar case. It was days like this he was almost sorry he'd run away. Almost.

He mapped out the town in his head. He had enough money to get to across town by tram; it wasn't a long walk from his hiding place to Central Station. Or maybe he could play on Market Street for a few hours instead before heading back home—maybe grab a bite to eat too if he was lucky. He might also have enough time to get through the back alley without high risk of getting jumped. Sometimes he hated the life he chose for himself after running away from home; it was a constant struggle that was easier or harder depending on where he played, and if people were willing to spare a five from their deep wallets.

Finalizing his plan in his head, he headed for the closest alleyway leading to Market Street, careful not to bump shoulders with anyone lest he get an earful from some stuck-up about being a street urchin. He was _a street performer thank you very much_. He didn't hang around on the streets because he wanted to.

Keeping his eyes straight ahead of himself, Roxas walked. In the two-almost-three years he'd spent living in Twilight Town, he'd learned that the less you looked at people, the more likely they were to leave you alone. If you ignored them, they'd go away—every kid knew that philosophy. It just so happened that sometimes other people (usually the people who didn't disappear when they were ignored) didn't know that philosophy. Roxas could count on both hands (and probably both feet) the amount of times he'd tried to get from one district to another unscathed, only to be faced with a group of thugs, or a mugger, or someone who wanted to "show him a good time" because he was "too cute to be roaming the streets".

Twilight Town wasn't as quiet as people thought.

Coming out of the alleyway—unharmed, thankfully—Roxas stepped onto Market Street. The area was as busy as ever; he was sure he would make a good amount of change. Moving swiftly in the direction of the Tram Commons where he was sure he'd be seen by most people passing by, he set his guitar case down and threw the latches open. His guitar was probably the only part of his previous life that he decided to keep. That, and a necklace with two distinct key-shaped pendants that he'd been given.

Lifting his guitar—affectionately named after a friend he'd made before leaving Traverse Town—out of its case delicately, he slung the strap around his shoulders, strumming experimentally before tuning. Another thing he's glad he kept with him—his knowledge and love of music. You could say he was a prodigy of sorts. That was part of the reason he wanted to make it to Hollow Bastion. He knew his talent could get him recognized.

He played the intro to a song he'd learned in his childhood years; he'd learned it by ear, and eventually written his own acoustic version. He looked around at the people passing, putting on his best performance facade as he opened his mouth to sing.

_Rollin' around at the speed of sound_

_Got places to go gotta follow my rainbow_

_Can't stick around have to keep movin' on_

_Guess what lies ahead only one way to find out_

_Must keep on movin' ahead_

_No time for guessin' follow my plan instead_

_Trustin' in what you can't see_

_Take my lead I'll set you free_...

-—-—-

Axel stepped off the train in Central Station. He'd never been in Twilight Town before; it was small. Almost too small for his taste.

"So what are we doing here again?" his friend Riku asked, stepping up beside him, his lengthy silver strands obstructing his view as the train pulled out of the station again. Axel only glanced at him briefly before heading towards the large glass doors leading outside. The winter air blew against them immediately—there was no snow on the ground, but it was freezing nonetheless.

"Sometimes it's nice to just travel," the fiery redhead said with a grin directed at his friend, to which the silverette rose an eyebrow.

"Bullshit," he said, fixing his jacket tighter around him. "I know as well as you do that if we were 'just traveling' we'd go somewhere with a temperature above minus-twenty degrees. Now tell me what we're doing here." In all honesty, Axel wasn't sure why they were there. Maybe just to see what was around, maybe check into a hotel and do some after-hours damage at a tavern or something.

"I just felt like getting out of Hollow Bastion for a while, that's all," he explained. And it was true; Axel was a little tired of the other town. The same people, the same places, and of course, his father. Riku seemed to accept the open-ended explanation; after all, he couldn't agree more. So there they were, two bored rich kids in a city they'd never been to. Axel, the son of a well-known businessman and heir to said business, and Riku, the son of a famous director.

"Where to, then?" the silverette asked, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. Axel only shrugged before glancing both ways, heading for the only visible path from the Station Plaza, heading towards Market Street. The town was actually larger than Axel had anticipated. Or maybe it seemed that way because he'd never been there. The shops and other businesses along the street they walked on seemed to be popular enough; the street was crowded too. It was nothing compared to Hollow Bastion, but it was definitely lively.

Rounding a corner (and avoiding what looked like a back alley), the two friends stopped. A commotion was building a few feet away, towards what a sign labeled as "Tram Commons".

"What do you think's going on over there?" Riku asked the taller male, his head turned in interest before he glanced back at Axel. The redhead only shrugged. If it were anything here like it were in Hollow Bastion, the attention would be around a thief who'd gotten caught, or someone making a spectacle of themselves. He'd had enough of that.

He'd had enough of everything out there. Enough rich people who thought they were too good for everyone else. Enough expensive clothes, enough expensive food, enough being driven everywhere when he was perfectly capable of walking. Enough of his life. Although he said those things, he knew he didn't have the heart to actually give it up. He was living too comfortably in his large house with his maids and butlers and having everything he'd ever need at the tips of his fingers. But a break every so often was always refreshing.

Before he could protest, Riku was on his way in the direction of the growing crowd. The redhead sighed, no choice but to follow his friend.

_Follow me set me free_

_Trust me and we will escape from the city_

_I'll make it through_

_Follow me set me free_

_Trust me and we will escape from the city_

_I'll make it through prove it to you_

_Follow me..._

The crowd surrounding the small blonde boy with the guitar in his hands erupted into applause, a wide smile on the boy's face. He headed into another song as people started moving forward, dropping any change they had into his guitar case. Riku and Axel had joined the crowd less than a minute before.

"There's something Hollow Bastion doesn't have," Riku said with a small smile. He turned to his friend who couldn't seem to turn his eyes away from the scene in front of him as if it was a totally foreign concept. But it wasn't; he'd seen people in subway stations playing violin, guitar, even flute. But none of them had ever been so young. The boy was barely anything over five-foot-five at the most, his hair accounting for at least an inch of his height with the way it spiked upwards. He had on a tattered black coat and light gray wool gloves with the fingers cut off, dark-coloured jeans, and beaten up Converse.

"Yeah," Axel said. "Hollow Bastion doesn't have cute blondes who play guitar." He really hadn't meant to say that out loud. He was hoping the word "young" would've come out instead. Even though he was sure Riku was used to hearing all sorts of bizarre shit come out of his mouth, that wasn't meant to be one of them, yet he didn't even try to cover. The silverette next to him snorted softly.

"I was going to say live entertainment, but I guess your sentiment is accurate as well," he said, not even attempting to hide his amusement. "The kid's voice isn't half bad either."

"Yeah, that too," Axel said, his eyes never leaving the boy. The kid looked barely older than fifteen. He'd heard of child prodigies, but had never actually seen one. He played so well, so effortlessly, and with a passion that went deeper than earning a little pocket change. There was something about him...

Just as the redhead was wracking his brain trying to figure out what about this blonde kid he'd never seen before, playing guitar in the middle of the street was so captivating—aside from being cute because well, anyone could be cute, right?—blue (a shade so vibrant it was almost unsettling) eyes met his green ones, unwavering as he continued to play a lyric-less tune, fingers pressed to the fretboard in ways that looked almost painful.

The crowd had died out by now, a few stragglers hanging around to hear more before dropping some change into his guitar case and continuing about their day. Riku was getting restless too (which was a little odd because wasn't _he_ the one who dragged _Axel_ over there?), quickly pulling out his smartphone to look for a hotel in town.

The blonde's incredibly blue eyes looked away first as he pulled his guitar from around his shoulders, scooping the coins and bills out of the case and pocketing them before setting his instrument inside gently, shutting the top and closing the latches. He gave one last glance at the redhead as he lifted the case, standing to his full height—which was pretty small now that Axel really looked at him; maybe he was younger than fifteen, even—before turning away quickly, heading in the other direction. Axel watched him disappear before turning to his silver-haired friend, totally ignoring the smug look he had on his pretty face. He cleared his throat, tossing the subject at hand aside immediately.

"So," he started. "I'm assuming you've found a place for us to stay the night?" The silverette only nodded, the corner of his mouth still turned up in a smirk. Axel glowered. "Stop smirking!" Riku raised his hands in defense before heading in the direction of where they would be sleeping for the night.

"Alright, alright," he said, a small chuckle following his words. "But just so you know, I think we might be seeing more of that kid." Axel frowned a bit. Although he was hoping for that, he wasn't so sure it was a good idea. "He looked homeless."

"Yeah," the redhead agreed. Although he had noticed them, the state of the kid's clothing wasn't much of a concern to him. The fact that he was street performing—panhandling, essentially, but with a guitar instead of begging—was enough of a hint that the blonde was either homeless, or just really on the short end of the stick when it came to money. "I wouldn't count on it, though. Street performers are usually trying to pay their way to get somewhere else. He's probably on his way to buy a train ticket and head to another town." He wasn't sure why, but he felt a little disappointed as he spoke.

He wanted to see that kid again no matter what.

Riku nodded. "Good point," he said. "Maybe we'll see him in Hollow Bastion when we go back." For whatever reason, he enjoyed teasing the redhead. Axel scoffed.

"Don't even talk about going back there," he said. Riku rose an eyebrow.

"Axel, we'll both have to go back sometime," he said. "You can't hide from your life forever, and holding me here against my will would qualify as kidnapping." Axel heaved a sigh.

"Fine, fine," he said, running an agitated hand through his unruly hair. "Can I at least get drunk tonight and worry about it in the morning?" He looked to his silver-haired friend for approval, smiling a little as the other boy nodded.

"Sounds good to me," he said, leading the way to their sleeping quarters for the night.


	2. Saving Grace

**RUNAWAY LOVE**

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**Pairing:** Axel/Roxas

**Summary: **For Roxas, every day is a struggle. Between dodging the police, muggers, and rapists, he's constantly putting his life on the line to make it from one day to the next. The only thing he has to drive him is his love of music. Axel, a spoiled rich kid spots Roxas one day and is immediately infatuated with the homeless boy. Having grown up getting anything and everything he's ever wanted, he's determined to have the blonde boy as his own, whilst learning what it means to live for another person.

**A/N:** i am beyond sorry that i took so long writing this. i know a lot of you guys have been anticipating continuation since i posted like, two and a half weeks ago, but just know that i'm not going to give up on this story. i hope this update doesn't suck.

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**II: Saving Grace  
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Sunset Terrace was probably Roxas' favourite part of Twilight Town, aside from the clock tower at Central Station.

It was less populated which ultimately meant less money to be made, but it had a nice atmosphere to it. The shops had things more his taste when it came to food and the people were nicer; some even engaged in conversation with him like he was a normal human being and not an ugly scuff on a new shoe. Not to mention that Sunset Hill was probably the best place to watch the sunset. Coincidence? Roxas thought not.

But none of that good feeling came to the blonde as he made his way along the street, guitar case in hand. The temperature had declined a few degrees and a wind had picked up, blowing into the spaces of his coat around his neck and collarbones and chilling him. The tips of his fingers were becoming a nice shade of purple the longer he spent outside thanks to hours of barre chords against steel strings and frigid weather despite the small, almost insignificant spike in the temperature. The sun was on its way to the horizon, painting the overhanging clouds in bursts of orange and gold, giving the street below an ethereal glow.

He'd already been in Twilight Town for two years out of the three he'd estimated it would take him to get to Hollow Bastion when he left Traverse Town. But after running out of whatever money he had when he left (which wasn't much because he'd been unprepared due to desperation to get out of that place), getting from point B to point C had proven to be a lot harder than he'd anticipated. At first, there was just point A to point B, Traverse Town to Hollow Bastion, but then reality had put him and his dreams on a short leash and forced him to stay put. It felt like having someone slightly taller than him hold something he really wanted just out of reach. It was frustrating beyond belief.

He heard his stomach grumble; that meal he had integrated into part of his daily plan was looking pretty good to him at the moment.

The nearest place for him to get anything was still a few blocks away; a small cafe-esque place he'd discovered during his first year in town. The walk there gave him the chance to go over his budgeting plan in his head. Not that he really needed to; he knew exactly how much he needed to make a day in order to make a certain amount every month to be able to make it to Hollow Bastion in a certain amount of years. But there would always be set-backs.

He knew things wouldn't be easy; running away had been hard all on its own after being caught three times before finally making it out of that hellhole. But making enough money to keep himself above water once he got to Hollow Bastion was proving to be tough. Living expenses were constantly setting his personal goal further and further back; he skipped meals for days at a time in order to keep more money in the jar he had stashed under the table in the small living space he stayed in. He'd thought about just buying train tickets to get to the larger city and continuing doing what he was doing, but he wasn't determined to keep living the life of a street performer. If that were the case, he would be there already.

Well, maybe he'd take his guitar out every so often for old time sake. Because when he really thought about it, despite how unappreciative the people of Twilight Town could be most days, Roxas enjoyed playing for them—enjoyed playing for himself. But it wouldn't be an every day thing anymore. At least he hoped it wouldn't be.

Roxas pulled the door to the little cafe and immediately felt the heat inside against his pinkened cheeks in a relieving rush that made his hair follicles tingle. The bell signalling his arrival jingled in that familiar rhythmless chime, making the person behind the counter perk up at the sight of him.

"You again," she said, her voice coated with a nurturing lilt that made Roxas feel the most comfortable he's been since... Forever. He'd been there a few times before, letting the girl indulge in her own curiosity about him. Xion was the only person who knew where Roxas came from, and where he wanted to go. The blonde ran a hand through his hair, following the raven-haired girl as she led him to an empty table near the back of the place.

"Yeah," he said. His guitar case made a loud thunking sound as it hit the tile flooring under the table he was seated at and for a split second he was glad there weren't a lot of people there because he was sure he would've garnered himself a lot of unwanted attention just then. The only time he ever wanted attention was when he was playing—other than that, he preferred to blend in with thin air. The girl gave him a small smile, setting a menu in front of him before disappearing behind the counter again.

Pulling his fingerless gloves off of his achy hands and unbuttoning his coat, Roxas glanced over the menu quickly. Usually it was just something quick—a pastry and something hot to go with it. But tonight he was more in the mood for actual food. Flipping to the sandwich section, his eyes scanned the list slowly. He ended up ordering half a meatball sub sandwich and a peppermint tea.

It had been a while since he'd eaten a whole meal, his stomach becoming more insistent on getting filled as he imagined what it would feel like to actually eat so much he couldn't walk. Amazing, probably. Xion set his order down in front of him moments later and he immediately dug in, chewing thoughtfully as he counted his money.

He was disappointed—more so than he knew he would be. He'd only managed to make about seventeen dollars on Market Street. He was so sure that he'd make at least thirty dollars once people had started stopping to listen to him, maybe even more since thirty was about normal daily income. But despite the large crowd he'd been able to attract, apparently his best smile and acoustic rendition of one of his favourite songs didn't work in his favour. Sunset Terrace hadn't been too generous either. A few people had humoured him as he played with that smile on his face; the one he'd practiced so often he could pull it off flawlessly while in any mood. He tried to get the busiest part of the area, but it was almost the same as it had been on Market Street; plus or minus the crowd of people.

He'd racked up a daily total of thirty-six dollars, fifty-eight cents, and two sticks of gum.

Roxas glared at the pieces of rubber wrapped in colourful foil and wondered if people thought he needed to freshen his breath because he was homeless, or if they just thought it was cool to torment those who struggled to keep themselves afloat. He was homeless by definition, sure, but he wasn't unhygienic.

It definitely wasn't a good day's work.

_But it had been interesting, at least,_ he thought to himself.

He was completely familiar with people bypassing him, looking at him like he was something filthy, or simply not looking at him at all. In the back of his mind, on those nights when he couldn't sleep, he wondered why. He wasn't panhandling—he was working; entertaining the locals as they went about their monotonous daily routine. He was giving people their own _theme music_ as they rushed off to work. He thought he deserved more than twenty-two dollars and two sticks of gum for that.

Apparently not according to the locals.

Despite it being a rather anti-climactic day in the ways of funds collected, he'd been given a rare surprise when he'd attracted a little more attention than he bargained for.

A pair of malachite eyes flashed in his mind's eye and his lips pursed.

Roxas had never seen such green eyes in his life. They were bright and strangely sharp, rivaling the colour of genuine emerald. Bright red hair that probably drew attention anywhere that he went, freakishly tall and well-dressed; his silver-haired friend too—not the freakishly tall part, but the well-dressed part. They didn't look like they were residents; he was sure he'd remember someone if they looked like them. They were wealthy, that much he could tell with a fleeting glance, and he wondered if they were going to be sticking around. If he was lucky, he might be able to get some money out of them.

That aside, he couldn't shake the way the guy had looked at him; intrigue had been written in his features, something Roxas rarely saw. He kind of hoped he'd get to see him again.

Turning his attention from his poor excuse for a profit, he stared outside the window next to him. People-watching was one of the things he did most; if he wasn't playing, he was observing. He watched people go about their evening, eyes following a woman with two young children on either side of her—a single mother, most likely. She looked happy enough, though. At least her kids weren't brats. A few cars passed by and Roxas began to wonder what life in Hollow Bastion would really be like—if he would actually be happier, if the people were any friendlier, if he would actually be able to stay there instead of living the life of a stray cat.

Roxas hoped to God that he wouldn't be disappointed once he got there. The last thing he needed was for his hopes and dreams to have been a joke to everyone, including himself. A farce that he had held onto so he would be able to get himself out of Traverse Town and not look back; there had been too many times that he'd thought about outing himself—letting Xemnas know where he was so he'd take him back and give him a decent place to live, even if it meant reverting back to his old life. He heaved a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

"That bad today?" came Xion's voice. She sounded concerned. Roxas glanced up at her and shrugged a bit.

"It's been better," he murmured as he gathered up his money and pocketed it securely. Taking a quick glance out the window, he could see the very last traces of the light from the sun disappearing, the sky taking on a murky navy colour. Getting a quick glance of the clock on the wall from the corner of his eye, Roxas realized it was getting late—almost 11 PM. Sulking over his lack of income for the day and chatting with Xion as she made her rounds to the few tables that were occupied for the night had taken the better half of few hours he'd spent along Sunset Terrace.

"I should get going; it'll be completely dark soon and I live all the way across town." The look the small girl gave him resembled that of a sympathetic friend who'd just seen their best buddy take a blow to the groin. Reaching into his pocket again, he pulled out the money to pay for his sandwich and tea, leaving Xion a tip for her hospitality. She always gave him this look when he left her extra money—one that had "are you sure?" written through and through. With a reassuring nod and a bit of stern negotiation, he was always able to get her to agree (though she would always hesitate). Roxas smiled and touched her cheek gently before pulling his gloves back on, reaching for his guitar case.

"Be careful, okay?" Roxas' hand was resting on the door as he turned to the raven-haired girl, a small smile set in place. Somehow, even though they were so close in age, Xion proved to fill the void that not having a mother had left within the blonde's chest. She wasn't his mother, nowhere near it, but the kindness she showed him was probably just as good—maybe even better. For all he knew, his mother wouldn't have supported his dream to go to Hollow Bastion and he would've fallen into a bout of reckless teen rebellion. Hell, he might've even ended up right where he was now, but under different circumstances.

"Maybe you're the one who should be careful," he said. "You're working late again. Be careful when you're heading home." Xion gave him a small smile, nodding before making her way to his table to clean up.

Roxas took that as his cue to leave.

-—-—-

The hotel Axel and Riku ended up at was a lot swankier than either of them had anticipated upon entering the smaller town. Sure, it wasn't as pristine as some of the places back home, but there wasn't much to complain about. Much to the redhead's pleasure, there was a bar nearby. He wasn't too keen on having to order alcohol and have it sent to the room (which would be a whole lot more expensive), and neither was the silverette.

They had gone exploring for the majority of their time between checking into the hotel and settling at the small tavern, sticking to what they were later informed was Market Street to avoid getting lost. The shops held a lot of things neither of the boys had seen—things that rich people typically overlooked. Little knick-knacks that held nothing more to them than personal entertainment—things you bought for a kid when they were upset—and street food (which wasn't so much foreign as it was something they didn't indulge in) were everywhere. The people were friendly enough—nicer than a lot of the people they knew back home. Axel immediately decided that he liked the atmosphere. He could easily see himself visiting often in the future.

There weren't many people around when they reached the bar; for such a small place they figured that there would be at least a few people spending the younger part of their Friday night doing something liberating. Even a stereotypical—more or less, he figured, but he probably seemed as such in the eyes of others no matter what he did—rich kid (except he wasn't a kid, he was twenty-one, damn it) like himself knew the pressures of the working world, thanks to his father.

"This place isn't half bad, yanno..." he said, leaning dangerously close to his silver-haired friend's face. Said silverette just gave him a risen eyebrow and shoved him away, aquamarine eyes falling back to the contents of his glass. They were both on their fourth drink and looking (and feeling) slightly more than tipsy.

"You're slurring," Riku mumbled, setting his emptied glass down onto the counter. His tone was authoritative like a scolding parent; not that he was doing any better at being articulate. "Slurring is unattractive." Axel fixed him with the best hard stare he could muster up in his drunken state.

"You are seriously one to talk right now," he said before knocking back the rest of his drink. He was quickly approaching the limit he'd set for himself that night—drunk enough for him to be stupidly content, but sober enough to remember how his legs functioned. Glancing at his friend, he could tell Riku was reaching that point too—the silverette looked like he was having a hard time getting his vision to focus, eyebrows knitted tightly in the middle of his forehead. "Time to head back?"

"Sure," Riku said, nodding a bit. He reached for his wallet and set a couple of bills down, waiting for Axel to do the same as he let himself down off of his stool. Axel wasn't quite sure since he was more than tipsy, and thus a whole lot less in touch with his sense of sight, but he could've sworn he saw his friend smirk triumphantly to himself upon managing to set his feet on the floor without hitting the hardwood. He set the money on the counter and pocketed his wallet, following his silver-haired friend out into the frigid night.

Axel held back a slurred stream of profanity as cold air blew against him, instantly chilling all traces of exposed skin on his face and hands.

"Dear God," he muttered, glancing back as Riku desperately made some attempt to shield himself from the unforgiving chill. "Does it get this cold in Hollow Bastion?" He could feel his mind clearing at an alarming rate—the direct opposite of what he wanted at the moment. He tightened the collar of his coat around his neck as the silverette looked at him and shrugged.

"We always had our cars during the winter so we probably never felt the worst of it," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I guess this could be a little survival test for us, hmm?"

"You're extra evil when you're drunk, you know that?" the redhead deadpanned. Riku just smirked and shrugged, apparently getting used to the cold. Axel narrowed his eyes at his friend. "I hear cold-blooded mammals adapt to different kinds of weather quickly." The silverette immediately gave him the finger and started walking.

"We'd better get back to the hotel if you want to freeze your skinny ass off," he said, blinking around at the deserted street before checking his watch. "It's almost midnight." Axel gave him a scrutinizing look, falling in step with him.

"Why are you so responsible right now?" he asked, his words still slurring. Now that he was getting used to the cold, the fog of inebriation was able to settle in again. Such didn't seem the case for Riku, though. The silverette's speech had returned to him for the most part, giving Axel a sense of inferiority because _why couldn't he hold his liquor like that?_

"The cold ripped a hole through my drunken stupor," he stated, though the way he almost stumbled over his own feet gave Axel the incentive to call bullshit.

"I'm not ready to go back yet," the redhead said after a few moments of silent meandering. Riku gave him a risen eyebrow before shrugging a little. His nonchalance was enough of a signal for Axel to keep going. "I just don't feel like sitting around in a hotel room; we do that enough at home."

"Well, you're a big boy," Riku said, patting his shoulder, the sound of his palm hitting fabric strangely loud in his ears. "You can handle yourself. Just don't die." A most creative method of saying "be careful" on the silverette's part. Axel rolled his eyes.

"I'll call you if anything," he said, waving his friend off before heading in a different direction, leaving Riku to himself.

Axel hadn't meant to sound so melodramatic—at least that's how he had sounded to himself; probably an effect of the alcohol. The point of getting drunk was to find a means of keeping himself from thinking about everything he was trying to avoid at home—his father, his social life, the typical things that went along with being the son of an elite business man. But it seemed to be taking the complete opposite effect.

Running a hand through his hair, he turned another corner. He had been oblivious to the sudden change in scenery at first, a habit that came along with his tendency to get lost in his thoughts easily. People thought he had a learning disability when he was younger because of it. The cloudiness of his mind clearing slightly when he heard a voice from behind him, from seemingly nowhere. The darkness didn't do much to allude him of his fogged up mind, making it harder for him to focus.

"You're pretty brave to be out here by yourself at night, boy," the voice said, making the hairs on the back of Axel's neck stand straight.

-—-—-

"Shit," Roxas muttered to himself, quickly recounting the money he'd earned. After his small meal at Xion's cafe, he was out fifteen dollars. Upon walking back into the freezing winter air, he decided that taking the train back to Central Station then hopping the last tram of the night would be the quickest, safest—and warmest—way to get back to the hole his called his living quarters.

He didn't have enough to make it the whole way.

If he'd thought ahead, he would've brought extra money with him and walked to Sunset Terrace earlier when it was a few degrees warmer; he'd be able to use that money to get himself home now when his nose was threatening to fall off of his face. Listening to the rubber soles of his shoes scuff along the paved walkway, he snorted. _I wonder how people would respond to me if I didn't have a nose_, he thought to himself. He intended it to be an amusing thought; had he been under different circumstances, he would've laughed at himself, but the laughter wouldn't come. Laughing wasn't a regular occurrence for him—it never really was.

The streets were eerily quiet at night. It was like every single person had disappeared off the face of the earth—a ghost town once the sun dipped below the horizon, streetlamps illuminating everything in a deep orange glow that cast long shadows along the path before him. The walk back would take him nearly an hour.

Slipping onto a darker side-street, he sought out the Underground Concourse—a shortcut back to Market Street that would save him a lot of time getting back to his staying place, and would keep him from freezing to death. The place was a breeding ground for the homeless. Roxas had seen all sorts of people from different walks of life there, and had even gone as far as to acquaint himself with a few of them. Not that he saw any one person there regularly, but it didn't hurt to attempt to make friends in a world that seemed to leave you even lonelier when you didn't fit into society's ideal.

Keeping his free hand jammed into his pocket, he sped up. The fluorescent lighting did nothing to change the atmosphere once he was underground, eyes glancing back and forth at some of the people down there. A woman wrapped in a blanket huddled in a corner for warmth; a small brunette boy who looked positively petrified; a little girl who looked younger than him clinging to an older boy's hip. It pained Roxas to see them; he was homeless too, but where he had the luxury of an actual roof over his head, these people knew the worst of it. Scavenging for food and being turned away were their everyday. But that didn't make him any less susceptible to the harsh reality that society didn't want him around—he was nothing to them. It wouldn't matter to them if he died one day and never showed up to play along Market Street again.

Sighing and shaking the thoughts from his mind, he emerged onto the street again, the chilly air blowing his bangs into his eyes. It was hard for him to believe that during the day Market Street was this alive and bustling city center; at night it was just as bare as Sunset Terrace.

Roxas checked his surroundings, immediately recognizing the route to the back alley near where he stayed.

_Don't look anyone in the face_, he reminded himself. _Don't look at anyone and they won't have a reason to bother you; no one knows you've got money on you so just walk fast_. His little pep talk was cut short as he stepped into the shadows once more, fingers tightening around the handle of his guitar case. Luckily for him, there were only a few people around, and none of them seemed in the right enough mind to give him any grief. At least until...

His eyes widened. Bright red hair and eerily green eyes immediately came into view, the rest of the man's body being obscured by another, though from the distance, he couldn't tell if it was the guy's silver-haired friend from earlier. Though, he was sure his friend didn't have a pocket knife—and if he did, he certainly wouldn't be holding his friend at knife point. Ducking behind a dumpster, he listened to the conversation going on between the two men at the other end of the alley.

"Don't pull that shit with me," he heard the man with the knife yell, his hand with the weapon moving dangerously close to the redheaded man. "I can tell by the way you're dressed that you got money on you." _Of course_. Someone was always getting robbed around the back alley. It was one of many reasons Roxas hated the place he lived.

"I'm telling you that I don't have anything!" the red-haired male shouted back, his voice immediately silencing when the knife was jabbed at him threateningly. Roxas wanted to scoff; despite the obvious things, this guy was willing to put his life on the line in order to keep money (that he could more than likely replace) in his wallet. Idiot.

Axel couldn't believe what was happening. For such a squeaky-clean looking place, getting robbed was the last thing he'd expected when he stepped off of the train earlier that afternoon. Then again, it was probably his own fault for wandering off. As snarky as the silverette was, Axel wasn't so sure he'd be able to keep up appearances on Riku's request for him to not get himself killed. The man in front of him looked sketchier than a syringe lying in the street, and about ready to skin him alive.

"If you ain't got no money on you, you're as good as dead," the man seethed, inching his way towards Axel. If he were sober, he'd probably be able to react better, but alcohol made him sluggish. _Oh shit..._ he thought._ Damn your sarcasm Riku, you jinxed me! _His back hit the wall behind him and he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like a wuss; usually he was tougher than this. He could easily get himself out of the situation had he been sober. Coming up with some rendition of a prayer in his mind (and swearing off drinking if he lived through the night), he waited for the pain; waited for the blade the man was holding to wrench its way through his stomach, his chest, anywhere.

But it never came. Instead, all he heard was a loud thunking noise and a deafening crack.

"Are you just gonna stand there and wait until the guy comes to so he can actually stab you?"

Eyebrows furrowing and eyelids prying apart, Axel stared down into the face of a blonde boy, guitar case in hand. The kid glanced around the alley way, nervousness etched into his entire being.

"Come on!" He grabbed at the redhead's sleeve and tugged him as he broke into a sprint, making the taller man follow behind him.


End file.
